Who You're Not
by DaeDreemer
Summary: Sometimes perfect needs to be graded on a curve.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: Set several years post S3 for Gossip Girl, finale for Gilmore Girls. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy. :]

* * *

Serena stares at the hairbrush, mahogany, engraved with an elegant R. She doesn't touch it, she doesn't touch anything; she shouldn't be here.

The toilet flushes and Blair opens the door. They shouldn't be here.

"Okay, I feel better now."

"Does Nate know you have a key to his apartment?" She asks, eyes drifting slowly around bedroom. There's an entire wall dominated by a book shelf – floor to ceiling and crammed tight with more books than she's certain Nate has ever read in his life. "Does his girlfriend?" She adds on a whisper.

"He ought to," Blair huffs, adjusting the fabric of her shirt around her belly, "And what she doesn't know won't hurt her."

"We shouldn't be here."

"Hm, yes." Blair agrees, "But I had to pee. I'm pregnant, he'd have to understand."

There's more to the story of course. There's Blair not being able to wait the additional six minutes it would take to get to her own home, there's her needing to use the upstairs bathroom, only accessible by entering the master bedroom, there's her quiet if not subtle hinting in the last few months that Nate's been getting serious with this girl, there's her insistence that Serena be in the city to help her buy a baby wardrobe – even though, the yet unborn baby girl already had enough clothes to last her a full year.

"Sure…" Serena say vaguely, can't stop herself from looking around the room. The bed's made-up, neatly. There's a stack of four books on one night table, three magazines on the other; a Yale sweatshirt on an armchair and Nate's sneakers by the closet door.

"Alright then," Blair continues, moves towards the door, "Let's go then…"

There's a rush of fury inside Serena then and she turns dark eyes to Blair, "You didn't have to do this," she accuses, feels her heart thumping hard in her chest.

And Blair, to her credit, doesn't deflect, doesn't pretend to not know exactly what Serena is referring to. She stops and meets the blonde's gaze, "Just be sure," she says seriously, "Because your time is running out."

She wants to ask her, _sure of what?_ Wants to feign ignorance and make her way of this duplex apartment Nate shares with some brunette she's never met. But the words stick in her throat.

"I'm not the one that needs to be sure," she whispers, looks down at the carpet. A soft hue of blue, looks soft and thick, perfect for walking barefoot, she thinks dully.

Blair rolls her eyes, "It's your choice," she says breezily, "It's always been your choice."

Serena lifts her gaze. "_You're_ the one that says this girl is perfect for him."

"I said she keeps him focused."

"We're not having this conversation," Serena shakes her head, "And especially not in _their house_ when they don't even know we're here."

Blair shrugs, moves towards the door again, "Have it your way." She walks away, heads downstairs.

And Serena stares at the bedroom through a sudden sheen of tears. It's not _fair_, this _isn't_ her choice. He's been with this girl for years now and she's been… busy. She's had work and sometimes classes and traveling and the city hasn't fit into her schedule – she hasn't _avoided_ it. She was booked solid for the entire _month_ of May. It wasn't her fault she couldn't attend graduations, holidays were busy times too and…

She sighs roughly, rubs at her eyes hard as she whirls around towards the door. "What do you want me to _do_?" She shouts from the top of the stairs.

Blair's by the front door; she has a perfect view of Serena in her tan Capri shorts and dark blue top, long hair twisted back into a messy ponytail. "How many times have you talked to Nate in the last two years?"

Serena rolls her eyes, refuses to answer for a moment. Mostly because she knows it's been exactly three times.

"I think you owe yourself a conversation, S." Blair shrugs again, "That's all."

They're both quiet for a long moment then, Blair leans back against the front door and Serena fidgets with the hem of her top, before blowing out a breath and stomping down the stairs.

"So for that, you had us break into his house?" She prods as she steps on the landing.

"I had a _key_," Blair defends and then pushes up from the door. "Come here…" she commands.

And Serena follows the brunette into the living room.

She almost gasps, it's a mess. A complete mess of newspapers, empty plates, books, DVD's, candy wrappers, Chinese take-out cartons; there're high-heeled shoes on the floor and a bowl of red licorice on the end table.

Blair's standing in front of her suddenly, handing her a framed photograph. It's the first glimpse of this girl Serena's ever had. She's never asked anything about her, not her name or what she looks like or even if Blair likes her. She's taken the mentions of her in silence, a silent, barely-formed hope that if she knows nothing at all of her, she'd fade away.

But she hasn't. She's here, in everything about this house, and this picture of Nate back-dropped against a diner and smiling, with his arm wrapped tightly around a beaming blue-eyed, brown-haired girl.

"Small town girl, went to Yale, reads a book a week, give or take a day." Blair says quietly, "Backpacked through Europe after high school, loves old movies, eats candy by the pound."

Serena's gaze lifts from the picture.

Blair's lips quirk, "Obviously, blue eyed and dark-haired."

"Blair…" her voice is fainter than she wishes it would be.

"It's not your imagination," Blair says when Serena trails off, "If we were one girl, we'd be absurdly close to being this girl."

Her hands tight around the picture frame. "You shouldn't have done this," she whispers, the words tight, voice low.

The smirk vanishes from Blair's face and she keeps her dark eyes fixed on Serena's blue as she says seriously, "I like her, Serena. She's a nice girl. She and Nate are good together."

Serena's breath catches and Blair reaches out, takes her hand.

"But I love you, you're my sister." She squeezes her hand, "That's why I did this."

Serena swallows hard, "It's been over three years, Blair."

"And miles and guys in-between, I know." Blair nods. "So why do you still avoid him?"

"I _don't._."

"What's her name?"

"What?"

"This girl Nate's been dating for almost two years. The one he's moved in with and who's family he visits every other weekend."

Heat flushes Serena's face. "I don't need to know everything that—"

"Okay then." Blair drops her hand. "If that's how you want to play this, fine."

"I'm not _playing_ anything," Serena snaps, frustrated suddenly.

Blair rolls her eyes, "Last three years, how many times have you had the relationship talk with Baizen? With that guy you keep re-dating from Brussels? With _Dan_ even?"

Serena recoils, "Dan and I haven't happened since college freshman year, you know that."

"That's not my point," Blair retorts, a hand touching her stomach gently.

"You don't have a point," Serena hisses.

Blair purses her lips. "Tell me you didn't seriously have to go out of your way to avoid attending my mother's Christmas party this year. The one held in Paris. While you were working there. _For_ my mother." Blair lifts an eyebrow, "Go on, lie to my face. Again."

Serena stiffens and then she _does_. "I had to be in London that weekend."

"It had nothing to do with Nate attending."

"No."

Blair studies her face. "I'm sorry you're so good at this now," she whispers.

Serena averts her gaze. "I'm glad he's happy." That's not a lie. She is.

Blair doesn't move, doesn't say a word.

And after a long moment, Serena takes a deep breath, opens her mouth to repeat that they should leave—and stops herself when the lock on the door jiggles.

Serena's eyes widen and Blair glances at her watch, sighs like this is a small inconvenience and not them inside someone's house without their knowledge.

The door behind them swings open, footsteps in the hall, and then there she is – the girl in the picture, glossy dark hair pull back, bangs in her face, blue eyes sharp, bag hooked over her arm and coffee cup in her hand.

Her gaze scans them and the living room quickly, before saying, "Blair," with a smile and glancing up the steps, "Is Nate home?"

"No, I had to pee." Blair explains.

And the girl pauses while dropping her bag into an armchair, on top of a pile of blouses, looks at Blair inquiringly.

"Your housekeeping is stellar as always," Blair adds, eyes on the pile, "The closet is upstairs."

"Hmh, I couldn't decide what to wear this morning, how'd you get inside the house? Who're you with? Are you staying for dinner?" She lists, straightening and then taking a sip of her coffee, before smiling at Serena. "I'm thinking pizza or maybe Chinese or Mexican-Chinese."

Serena presses her lips together, means to say hello, to introduce herself, but finds all she can do is stare, watch this girl.

"With a key, of course," Blair answers the first question.

The girl's gaze shifts back to Blair, "A key? Nate gave you a key?" She asks skeptically.

"_Gave_ is perhaps be an overestimation of what occurred," Blair concedes; she'd taken it from his pocket when he'd changed into running clothes at her house one day. "I really did have to pee though."

She smiles, "Of course you did." There are bright blue eyes are on Serena's face then and she watches the smile widen a fraction, "Hi, I'm Rory…"

Serena takes a quick breath and pulls up a smile, tries to match hers, "Right, yes… hi, I'm Serena," She stammers, "Sorry about—"

"I know," Rory nods, her eyes locked onto Serena's very seriously for a beat before she glances at Blair, "I've seen your pictures around," she chirps lightly. "And don't apologize I'm sure this was definitely, completely not your idea and it's not like anyone can deny Blair anything especially pregnant-Blair, which is something she's more than a little bit aware of, isn't she?"

Rory doesn't wait for an answer; she moves towards the coffee table and digs through the mess of papers, "I'd confiscate the key," she continues, dropping onto the sofa and rifling through a stack of what look like take-out menus, "But I have this feeling that isn't the only copy."

"Not even the only key to his houses I have," Blair admits with a shrug. "We're not staying." She moves closer to Serena, arms touching and Serena keeps her gaze on Rory. She's wearing a beige pants-suit with a dark pink top, high heels in the same shade of pink, a little beaded bracelet on her wrist.

She looks up from studying the menus in her hand, "You're not? There's a new Mexican-Thai food place I wanted to try." Her gaze goes to Serena, "It's supposed to be really great."

"You're not going to convert me to your penchant for strange food mixes." Blair retorts, frowning a little, "You've already ruined Nate."

Rory shakes her head. "You mean, I've opened his taste buds to new and amazing experiences," she contradicts and then leans back, on the sofa, "You know next time you decide to invade our house while we're not home the least you could do is bring food. Or make coffee. Or both." She kicks her shoes off, sets the coffee down.

"You're delusional."

"And you stole Nate's key and made a copy," she responds, takes a piece of licorice, "Not nice, Blair." She pops it into her mouth.

Blair rolls her eyes.

"Boundaries," Rory continues, smiling a little.

"We are really, very sorry," Serena offers, loops her arm through Blair's and tugs her back a step, "We shouldn't—no one wants to come home and find… just people, in their house that shouldn't—"

Rory's smile widens, "I'm just kidding. I've had worse things…." She says cryptically and then hops up from the sofa. "You're sure you won't stay?"

Serena's mouth goes dry at the question.

"We have to get going," Blair nods. "See you soon though…?"

Rory nods. "Weekend…" Her gaze drifts back to Serena, "You'll be there too?"

Serena doesn't know what she's talking about; she doesn't know anything about this girl that Blair talks to familiarly, that doesn't get mad when Blair invades her house, that orders take-out for dinner and has candy in her living room – her living room with _Nate_.

But with those steady blue eyes fixed on her face, she knows, "Yes," and, "I'll be there." She'll stay, if only for a little while.

* * *

.tbc.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: Set several years post S3 for Gossip Girl, finale for Gilmore Girls. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy. :]

* * *

"I met Serena today." Rory says between bites of coconut rice.

Nate starts, drops a nacho on the couch, his gaze swinging from the TV to her, "What?"

She arcs her eyebrows and reaches over quickly, snags the fallen nacho before he can pick it up and pops it into her mouth.

Normally he'd squawk in mock outrage, lunge at her with a grin and they'd end up feeding each other— and naked.

He doesn't this time though; he holds completely still and gapes at her.

She nods at him. "She and Blair were here when I got home," she informs him.

Nate feels like he's missing a page of the story, which happens fairly often with Rory – but not usually when she's said so little— or her mother isn't around.

It's late; they'd had entire discussion about how the amazing Mexican-Thai place was basically just a place that sold Thai food or Mexican food and not the magical fusion of the two that they'd been expecting. They're in pajamas and he'd won the coin toss, so they're watching the playback of the game on ESPN. "Rory, I…" He blinks. "How's that…? Serena's here?"

It's the thought that buzzes in his thoughts. _Serena's here._

Rory lifts her eyebrows, "Well, not _here_."

He shakes himself out of it, rubs at his hair. "Yeah, no. I know…" blows out a breath, "Sorry. Just… I didn't know she was in town."

"That's your concern?" She wonders, moves the rice in her carton around, "Not that they were _in our house_ while we weren't here?"

"Oh… right, yeah." He shrugs, "That's weird."

"Nate…" she rolls her eyes.

"What?" He tilts his head a little, studies her face. _Is she annoyed?_

"Blair got into your stuff and made a copy of your keys."

_Ah._ "Right," he nods, turns his gaze back to the TV, "I'll talk to her about it."

Rory nudges his leg with her toes, "And get'm back."

Nate nods; his eyes on the TV, but distracted. "She's probably got more than one copy…" he mumbles, takes a deep breath and tries to focus on… something. He looks down at his nachos – food, good.

"You could get them all."

Rory's voice is quiet and he registers that, knows vaguely that she's watching him closely. "She'll lie," he concludes, eats another nacho.

The room is quiet for a beat. He chews and lets his gaze follow the colors of the television screen.

"She's really sweet."

Nate starts at the words, head whipping around to look at Rory, "_Blair?_" He exclaims, eyes wide and brows arched.

Rory grins, that gorgeous smile that sort of makes him marvel at his luck. "Not exactly the adjective I'd use to describe Blair."

He blows out a breath, feels a sheepish smile spread across his face, "Yeah—no." He shakes his head, opens his mouth to list _adjectives_ for Blair.

"Serena." Rory offers, before he can say another word.

"Oh…" he licks his lips, "Yeah, her…" he agrees faintly, "Yeah."

"_She_ apologized," Rory continues, smiles a little.

"Right…" he ducks his head, sighs. He's quiet for a moment and then looks up at her through lowered lashes, "Okay, what?"

She shrugs, "Nothing."

"You're doing that thing…"

"Thing?"

"Yeah – where I can get a word in, in the conversation," he purses his lips at her, "Means you have something you want to say."

She unfolds her legs from underneath herself, stretches them out on his lap. He lifts the nachos and then sets the plate on her calves, gives her his attention.

"I'm just _noting_ that Serena is very sweet— or at least appropriately apologetic when invading someone's home without their knowledge or permission."

"Did you—did she…? You and her, you talked?"

"Yup."

She's watching him and he bristles, "Stop looking at me like that…"

"Like what?"

"I don't know…" he averts his gaze, "Like _that_, like you want to see my— head spin or something."

"I want to see your reaction," she corrects with an easy shrug, "I mean, she's your big kahuna of exes, you know?"

"She's not," he mumbles, "I dated Blair _way_ longer."

Rory doesn't contest that, she eats some more rice then reaches for her wine glass. Nate warily turns his attention back to the television.

"She's coming this weekend."

"Yeah, so she said." He answers, gives a mock shudder. "I think if we can keep her away from Taylor or Miss Patti than we should be oka—"

"Serena," Rory interrupts, looks at him over the rim of her wineglass, "She said she'd come… with Blair, I guess."

Nate's mouth snaps shut and then he mumbles, "Oh." He takes a moment to absorb that information and notices the way Rory's still watching him intently, "Stop it…" he frowns, "I feel like an experiment."

"A very cute experiment," she teases, stretches forward and grabs another nacho, "Who's all stupefied at the prospect of seeing his ex in the flesh," she adds, a little more seriously.

"I'm not going to see any flesh!" He squawks, scowling.

"Flesh, to mean, _in person_," she explains.

He huffs, "Could you stop."

She smiles a little, glances away, "It's too easy."

He sighs, drops his gaze to the nachos; and then he moves them off of her, reaches over at takes the rice carton out of her hands.

"Better have a good reason for that move, Archibald," she states, completely serious, hands still extended, "I was only taking a break, I was nowhere near finished with that. Because despite its lack of Mexican-Thai fusion it was actually pretty good and I was considering dropping a few of the nachos in there and stirring it up, reheating, and maybe creating my own fusion. I just wasn't sure if I was willing to sacrifice the nacho crunchiness for—"

He takes her hand and pulls her forward, kisses her silent.

"I'm just surprised," he tells her when he pulls back, "That's all."

"You're stunned," she whispers, "And vaguely freaking out."

"Don't…" he picks one of her words, "_Narrate_ my feelings."

"Don't pretend it doesn't matter."

"It _doesn't_," he counters, tugs at her hand and she shifts, crawls over to him, onto his lap. "I mean… it'll be nice to see her, I guess," he adds, wraps his arms around her, "But it doesn't matter the way you're thinking it matters matters."

"You can tell me. I won't freak out, I understand. I'm really good at understanding feelings you can't help but feel even though you know you shouldn't or maybe don't even want to. I can—"

He kisses her silent, again.

She smiles against his mouth. "I'm just saying you can tell me what seeing her again does to you."

"I've seen her again," he says softly, leans back.

"In passing."

He shrugs. "Serena doesn't…" he trails off for a moment, "Just because she _said_ she was going, it doesn't mean she will." He explains softly, "It's only Tuesday. A lot of things can happen from today till the weekend…"

Their gazes hold for a beat and then she tucks her head under his chin, lays her cheek against his chest, listens to the rumble of his voice as he adds, "This time will probably be in passing too."

"It might not be," she offers and she isn't entirely sure what she means to say with that- for there to be hope or dread.

He finds her hand, intertwines their fingers, "You know that I love you."

She rolls her eyes, "Duh," pokes him in the chest, "Totally obvious."

"Exactly, so can we just…" he kisses the top of her head, "Finish dinner?"

"_You're_ the one who stole my food," she pouts, bumps her nose into his cheek playfully.

He smiles, "I want all of your attention."

"You might have it…" she says presses a light kiss to his mouth, "If you give me back my food."

"Sounds counter-productive," he murmurs, kisses her again, more deeply.

She smiles against his mouth, "As opposed to me getting up in a huff and grabbing my food on the way to our bedroom, where I'll lock the door and spend the night with a book and an old movie on mute?"

He rolls his eyes and grins, leans to the side, tugging her with him a little as he reaches over and picks up her carton, "For you…" he offers, holding it up between them.

She smiles, hair in her face and eyes locked with his. "I love you."

Her smile quirks to one side, a hand lifting to pat his cheek, "Twice in less than ten minutes- and you're not freaking out?"

He leans back a little, "Rory—"

"I love you too," she says before he can finish, "Just…" she shrugs a little, gaze turning a little hesitant, "Tell me if there's something to tell, okay?"

"There isn't going to be anything to tell," he says firmly. Their gazes hold for another beat and then he peeks into her carton, "Can I have some of that?"

"Are you going to tell Blair to stay out of our apartment unless she's strictly invited?"

He bats his lashes her, "Of course."

"Nate…"

"I promise to go to her with the total intention of telling her that."

She laughs.

And he rushes on, "_If_ you promise to not leave me alone at any point this weekend with your Dad or Luke or…" he pouts at her, "Your Dad _and_ Luke."

She grins at him, takes the fork from the carton and starts to fiddle with it, "But wasn't that the highlight of last year's Halloween for you?" She teases. "My mom still has the video…"

"Oh yeah…" he digs his fingers into her side a little, tickles her, "That was awesome of her…"

"Nate!" She squeaks, squirms on his lap.

"… filming my expression instead of coming to save me!" He demands, tickling her a little more, pulling her closer.

Rory laughs, "Your _face_!" She squeals, wriggling in his hold, "I love the close-up's!"

"Hilarious," he says dryly, tilting them backwards so she's lying on top of him.

"Poor baby…" she teases, tilts the carton towards him and lifts the fork up, "How can I make it up to you? Again?"

"Not with that…" he tells her with a half-grin, eyes on the fork, "Never enough making up."

She rolls her eyes lightly. "I promise," she swears, eats the forkful of rice herself.

"Then I promise too," he agrees, waits for her swallow and then flips her underneath him on the couch without warning.

Rice spills on the floor and she almost jabs the fork into his shoulder, "Nate!" She laughs. "I almost maim—"

He laughs too and kisses her, it's dinner as usual.

* * *

"If this is about what I think it's about, I had to _pee_, Nate." Blair greets him as he walks into her living room. She's setting the book she'd been reading aside, looking up at him with deceptively innocuous brown eyes. Her dark hair loose around her face and shoulders, face devoid of make-up, wearing a pale green sweater dress with long sleeves – she looks unquestionably innocent. "What was I supposed to do?" She continues plaintively.

He leans down and presses a kiss to her cheek. "I need the keys back," he tells her without preamble, drops down at the other end of the sofa with a shrug.

She gives him an imploring look, "What about next time I—"

"We live like four minutes from here."

"I'm _pregnant._" She tells him, gives him a pointed glance.

And his gaze drops to her belly. Blair was pregnant, six months and three weeks, and she never, ever let anyone forget it. He sighs, "I know."

"Exactly," she nods.

He rubs at his face, "Rory doesn't like it when—"

"The amount of things I do not like that Rory does numbers in the three-digits, Nate." She waves a hand airily, "We all have to make concessions if you insist on continuing to date her."

He licks his lips, tries not to smile. "Okay, whatever..." he relents, hadn't arrived with the idea of actually succeeding. He doubts Rory expects him to either; and anyway, if she'd _really_ meant it she would have gotten them from Blair when she saw her. "Just don't… get caught or something, okay?"

"Mhm… I'll need an update of your schedules then."

He stares at her, nonplussed.

"Okay, okay." She smiles, lifts one shoulder in a shrug, "I'll get it myself."

"How are you going to—" He cuts himself off, "No, I don't want to know." He shakes his head, "I'd rather not know."

She beams at him a little and then, "I'm surprised she sent you on your to run this little errand."

"She has a deadline in…" he glances at his watch, "Four hours."

"Aah." Blair nods, skims her gaze over him, "Anything else you want to talk about?"

He blinks at her and then grins, "Hello? We skipped that part…" he glances at her stomach again, "How are you?"

"Hm… fine, fine…" she says vaguely, eyes fixed steadily on his face, "That isn't exactly what I meant…"

He breathes out slowly, doesn't cringe or tense in any way, "Oh?" He says causally, "Dan around?" He wonders, glances around the living room.

She presses her lips together for a beat, watching him, and she then reaches for her book, rolls her eyes, "How would I know?"

Nate holds back his own eyeroll, manages to say, "He lives here," with an entirely straight face.

"One is not required to know the whereabouts of one's roommate at all times." She opens the book.

He doesn't laugh. The last time he laughed she threw a candle lighter at his head. "Blair." He says her name with just a twitch of his lips, "How long are you going to do this?"

"Do _what_?" She snaps, eyes lifting from the pages to his.

"This… thing, you're doing to Dan."

"Oh, _I'm_ the one who's doing something to _him_, am I?"

Nate ducks his head a little and rubs at his hair, "You know what I mean."

"I do not." She says steadily, sets the book on her lap.

"The baby—"

"_My_ baby has nothing to do with—"

"His baby too."

Her eyes go cold and it's a Pavlovian response in him to shrink back a little bit. "Consider your welcome mat withdrawn," she says icily.

"_Blaaair…_" he drawls after a long moment of silence. She's looking genuinely upset and he doesn't know quite how to fix that.

"_What_, Nate?"She snaps, irritated. "What?"

"Don't be like that."

"Don't tell me what do with my life."

"You tell me what to do with mine all the—"

"I'm unquantifiable amounts better at it than you!"

He stares at her and then says quietly, just a little bit teasing, "Don't yell— you're pregnant."

And her eyes narrow a little before she huffs and slouches back against the sofa, "You need to leave life managing to the experts, like me…" she teases back gently.

He sidles a little bit closer to her, touches her arm, "Hey…"

She glances at him guardedly and with good reason.

Since what Nate says is, "He wants to marry you."

"So he has said," she mumbles, glances at her nails.

"It's not a terrible idea."

"You're ability to recognize a terrible idea is nonexistent." She says glumly, picks up her book again.

And at that, he laughs. "It might not be so bad," he takes her hand, gives it a squeeze, "Might get Eleanor to leave the city finally… give you some breathing room…"

"I do not need _Humphrey_ to…" she grimaces, "… make an honest woman out of me."

He smiles at her, "I'm pretty sure no one can do that."

Her mouth drops open, "Hey!" And she shoves at his shoulder hard, "Not funny!"

"I'm kidding!" He laughs, rubs at his shoulder, "I'm kidding…"

She shoots him a glare, a smiling tilt to her lips. "You better be," she warns and they stare at one another for a beat, things unsaid they don't really have to voice. She rests her head against his shoulder and they're still then, comfortable and calming.

"Hudson," she tells him softly after a few minutes. "With his mother."

"Aaah," Nate nods.

Another beat of silence and then she continues, "Do you want to talk about Serena?"

He stills for a moment before responding, "Not really."

"She's coming with us on Friday."

"So I heard."

"You don't believe it." It's not a question.

"Serena…" he trails off for a beat, visions filling his mind for a moment of her brilliant smile and teasing looks, before he dashes them away, "Just… happens or doesn't happen. I don't have to… believe anything."

Blair doesn't reply to that, lets the silence between them stretch for a long moment before letting them both off the hook. "Take me to lunch."

He smiles wryly, "Why I came."

"Liar."

"Among other things," he amends.

"You came here to yell at me." She says, a playful pout in her tone.

He tilts his head down so he can look into her face, "Never."

"Liar," she grins.

"While you're pregnant," he amends again.

She sticks her tongue out at him.

And he takes both her hands, helps her up.

* * *

.tbc.


End file.
